“I hope you change your mind about staying on the couch, Nan would feel bad,” Gwen says.
She’s a few steps ahead of me, but if leaned forward, I could bite her ass cheek. That makes my mouth water as I smirk to myself.
“It’s fine. I gave in by coming into the house. I draw the line there,” I reply.
She stops suddenly and looks at me over her shoulder about to say something. I was staring at her ass. I tilt my head to the side and kind of shrug as my eyebrows raise and a smirk tugs on my lips. You caught me. Her face flushes a deep pink as her eyes widen, then she fights a smile as she drops her gaze.
Everything stops. It’s just her and me, and this small space that has us suspended by the hunger pulling us together that’s always there. All I can think of is TAKE.
“You were going to say?” My voice is rough.
Her eyes meet mine again. “I, um,” she swipes her tongue slowly over her lips. I drop my eyes to watch it slide. Then she pulls her bottom lip between her teeth. I swear to God I growl as my hand tightens on the banister and I have to stop myself from closing the distance between us and laying her down on the stairs.
“Say it Gwendolyn,” I whisper huskily as my body moves of its own accord, taking one more step closer.
She shifts just enough to turn sideways, stopping midway before turning around. My eyes slowly travel down her body, devouring every curve and swell through her thin blouse and second skin jeans with my eyes. Her breasts are in perfect view in front of me, round and full. They taunt me, her denim covered lips tease me, and her waist tempts me, all daring me to touch her. My eyes lock with hers again. I take another step, I’m so close now, our bodies are practically touching. She turns again so she’s facing me completely. If I took a deep breath, my chest would graze her nipples. I curl my fist at my side to keep from touching her. Taking her. Possessing her. Her breathing is heavier now, each time her chest rises, her tits just barely touch me. But it’s her eyes, the clear light blue, darker now, her pupils dilated with need. That tears down my resolve.
“Gwen,” I rasp out. It’s killing me being this close to her and not touching her.
“Yes,” she whispers.
It’s not a question. It’s an approval. An invitation. An answer to all the questions I want to ask her but never will.
I grit my teeth.
This is not happening.
“Turn. Around.” I sound like an asshole.
She takes in a sharp breath as if she were startled, and pulls back. Then she gets mad.
The thing is, I’d love to fuck the angry right out of her. That makes me grin. It only succeeds in getting her angrier.
Oh, hell, this could be a whole lot of fun.
“I don’t know what your problem is, Mr. Bull…,” her sentence trails off, and I can see it aggravates her that she doesn’t know my last name.
“Smith,” I say.
She blinks. “What?”
“Smith. John Smith.”
She stares at me. “That’s your name? John Smith?” It’s like a switch flipped. Her voice is now soft and gentle, it’s as if she’s caressing my name with her words. I want to hear her say it all the time.
“Yes. But everyone calls me Bull,” I grin at her. For that fleeting moment, all the bullshit’s gone, it’s just her and me, a man and a woman, with no pretenses, no agendas, no threats or baggage or bad guys. Just me and her.
“It’s very nice to meet you John Smith,” she gives me a shy grin. It makes me want to kiss her again. “I’m Gwendolyn Pierce.”
“Gwendolyn,” I give her a mock bow, “I am completely at your service.” What she doesn’t know is I’d do anything for her. Anything at all.
When I lift my head and our eyes meet, she’s got one eyebrow arched and a smirk curving her red hued lips. My filthy mind immediately envisions all the pornographic versions of what she’s thinking.
If she only knew.
I can’t help giving her a smirk in return to let her know what she’s imagining is nowhere near as filthy as what I am. Her face flushes once more. I laugh, it’s the most adorable thing I’ve seen. She turns and starts up the stairs again.
“You’re impossible,” I hear her mutter.
I chuckle. “No, Gwen, impossible is one thing I’m not.”
She doesn’t turn, she doesn’t comment, but her footsteps get a little bit louder as she ascends. I can imagine how she’s cursing me out in her head.
I shake my head as I follow her to the upstairs landing. The hallway in front of us is long and the same original dark wood paneling continues up here with original dark plank flooring. There’s a runner that goes down its length, the walls are covered with photographs and portraits, and at the end is what I assume to be a collage of her family, all in black and white.
“I’ve been up here by myself for years,” she’s saying as she passes some doors, there are six in total, all spaced out. When she reaches the middle, she stops in front of one and faces me. “This is your room,” she states quietly, looking at me from lowered lashes. “The bathroom is across the hall.”
I approach her slowly, my duffel clutched in my sweaty palm. I’ll be damned, I’m nervous too.
“Thank you,” I tell her.
I’m quiet. She’s quiet. The whole house is quiet.
The house is quiet? Why is the house so quiet?
“Where’s your grandmother?” I ask when I’m standing in front of her.
“She has her own rooms downstairs. They used to be the servant’s quarters.” She shrugs a shoulder. “You know these big, old houses.”
“I hadn’t realized this place is so large.” It’s the truth. It’s huge. It seems there’s a whole other section I didn’t know existed.
I’m going to have to get in there to make sure it’s secure as well.
“Think she’ll give me a tour?” I ask attempting to sound funny.
She gives me a curious a look. “Yeah, I’m sure she will.” But she lets it go.
Thank God.
Now standing in the doorway, I look into the room. It’s large with an antique bureau and mirror, and two nightstands, with a table and two blue velvet upholstered chairs in front of the window. I spy the bed. It’s a four-poster Victorian style queen dressed with a white spread decorated with roses. There are four pillows, with the throw pillows covered in matching cases.
More roses, I’m going to be surrounded by her.
“I don’t want to be an inconvenience, Gwen. I don’t like putting you or your grandmother out. I’m here to help,” I lay a hand on her arm.
There are two things I notice immediately: her skin is softer than I imagined, like silk. The second thing is the surge of electricity that hits me nearly knocks me on my ass.
Her body tenses as her eyes shoot to mine. She felt it too.
“I’m glad you’re here,” she says quietly.
The filthy bastard that I am reacts. A slow lascivious grin pulls the corners of my mouth up. Her gaze moves to watch as the transformation happens from the nice guy to the bull.
“I’d better get inside,” I murmur. Before I drag you in here with me.
“Um, yeah,” she doesn’t move.
I do. I step inside my bedroom and slowly close the door, all the while watching her watch me as the door clicks shut.
Once inside, I let out a breath.
She’s got a shit ton of questions. Rightfully so.
What I’m thinking about as I set my bag on the bed and unpack is how I’m going to answer them. I put my clothes in the dresser, but my guns and knives, that’s the tricky part. I decide to leave them in my bag and put it in the closet. This place still has the original doorknobs with locks that take skeleton keys.
“It really should be a museum,” I mumble. It must be worth at least a million.
Who knew Mrs. Merriweather was loaded? I sure as hell didn’t. I push aside the thought that strikes me as a little strange.
Gwen left me towels, washcloths,
and hand towels. Good thing. I need a shower. Grabbing a fresh pair of shorts, t-shirt, and a towel, I head to the bathroom. It’s got an updated pedestal sink, a claw foot tub, a separate shower enclosed in glass, ornate blue and white wallpaper, and white tiled floor. As the water heats up, all those fantasies I’ve had while sitting in my truck every night begin to play through my mind. I’ve had a hard-on since I started following her up the stairs.
I step into the shower, fist my cock, and start to pump. I mumble again, “So, so screwed.”
CHAPTER 12
Gwendolyn
I wasn’t sure if I could make it downstairs without my legs giving out on me. I’d heard him in the shower from my bedroom next door to his, and all I could think of was him. All of him. Wet. Big. Naked. I imagined every movement he’d made, slipping his clothes off and leaving them on the floor, stepping into the shower and the water cascading over his massive frame, his hands travelling over his body, over his muscles, between his legs. I’d worked myself into a frenzy thinking of his body, all of his body, his ass, his back, and just what exactly he’s packing. Have mercy, he’s got to be anatomically proportioned, and if his arms, legs, hands, and feet are that big, I can only imagine how big the rest of him is. I had to slip my hand between my legs for a release in order to clear my head. I screamed into the pillow to stifle the sound, grateful he was still in the shower.
When I left my room this morning to bathe, Bull’s bedroom door was open. I glanced inside and saw that the bed hadn’t been slept in.
He must have spent the night on the couch like he said he was going to.
As I get downstairs, I hear Bull and Nan in the kitchen.
“A big lad like you ‘as got to eat proper,” Nan’s scolding him. I chuckle.
“Mrs. Merriweather,” I can hear the restraint in his voice. It makes me giggle again. “I don’t want you to go through any trouble. Just pretend I’m not here and go about your business.”
“Posh, boy, ignoring you would be as easy as pretending you don’t see an elephant in the room. Tis impossible.”
“Mrs. Merriweather,” he begins.
“Nonsense, sit yourself down. Now.” She’s getting firmer.
The only sounds now are the clanging of plates and pans and the scratch of a chair on the floor.
Poor Bull. I shake my head, smiling.
“Gwendolyn, I know you’re out there. Your food be getting cold, too,” Nan calls from the kitchen.
I roll my eyes. I guess she’s spreading it around. “Yes, Nan,” I say from the doorway.
Bull’s at the table looking up at me with a grim expression. Having him in my house, sitting at my kitchen table, seeing him every day like this, sends a warm tremor through me. Nan’s at the stove with a spatula in one hand, a frying pan in the other. She’s serving mushrooms onto a plate with eggs, sausage, tomatoes, and beans, a traditional LARGE English breakfast.
“Good Lord, Nan, are you feeding an army?” I say as I approach.
“The boy alone be about big as one. ‘e’s got to eat enough. Properly, not that shite from the McDonalds,” she sets a heaping plate down in front of Bull. “Sit yourself down lass, ‘e won’t be eating alone.”
I take a seat next to Bull. “You’re going to get me fat.”
Bull takes a sideways glance at me and smirks. I want to flip him off.
She sets our tea in front of us. “That would be a fine thing. Maybe you’d not be looking like a thirteen-year-old boy any longer. Give you a reason to be buying something other than those…what were they, Gwendolyn?” she returns the kettle to the stove.
“Lord, Nan. Hoodies.” I want to crawl under the table and hide.
She’s doing this now? She’d better not be doing this now.
Nan sits across from me on the other side of Bull. I glance at him and he’s got a huge grin on his face as his eyes roam over my body.
Holy crap! He’s checking me out. Right here in front of Nan!
His eyes meet mine and his grin grows. “Mrs. Merriweather, with all due respect, ma’am. Gwen could never be mistaken for a boy.”
I drop my gaze as a flash of heat burns through me and my stomach flips.
“She is a right bonny lass, Bull, isn’t she,” and just like that, Nan is the most wonderful woman I’ve ever known.
His eyes get this look in them, almost wistful, and sad. “That she is,” he replies softly.
That look makes my heart hurt. I don’t understand it, it’s contradictory and makes absolutely no sense. I want to yell at him and shake it right out of him. Instead, I pick up my fork and start to push my food around my plate, suddenly unable to eat a thing.
“I won’t be telling you what to do, lad, but you’ve got a room upstairs,” Nan tells him.
“I know, and thank you, but I’m fine down here.”
That’s not exactly what he told me last night.
“This is a beautiful home. It’s a lot larger than I originally thought. How long have you been here?” Bull asks with a forkful of food at his mouth. His complete attention is on Nan.
Good, I can look at him without him watching.
“Och, let’s see,” she sits back in her chair with a soft smile. She gets like this every time she thinks of Granddad. “We’d ‘ad Gwen’s mom before we moved in, and her aunt,” her eyes meet Bull’s. “It was right ‘ere in this ‘ouse we’d lost ‘er. Died from leukemia, bless ‘er soul. We’d wanted ten babies,” she sweeps her gaze upward. “That’s why we bought the ‘ouse, you see, lad. But I got sick. Cancer, and the doctor’s cleaned me out,” she lays a hand on her abdomen. “It’s up to Gwendolyn now,” she spies a mischievous look at me.
Here we go.
“Up to Gwen?” Bull turns his attention to me.
“Why, yes, to fill up the ‘ouse with babies. Lots of them. About time she got started, don’t you agree, lad?”
I can hear him swallow hard. I want to drop my head to the table in embarrassment. I cringe as I shrivel up inside.
“She just be needing a man ‘oo can ‘andle it,” Nan reaches over and covers his hand with hers.
Somebody shoot me now!
“I suppose she would,” he gives me another sideways look. “So, Gwen and this man would live here with you to help with the, um, ten babies?” He wants to laugh; I can see it in his face. I glare at him.
“Pfft, no. The ‘ouse be ‘ers.”
He whips his head to face Nan. “The house is Gwendolyn’s?”
“Of course, lad. Did the army make you daft?” How did she know he was in the army? “Everything I ‘ave belongs to my lassy,” she gives me an affectionate smile. “I’ve given it all to ‘er. I don’t need it. She will. And I ‘ope to be ‘olding those babies before the good Lord calls me ‘ome.” She lays her hand on his again and gives it a squeeze.
“Wow,” he sits back in his chair, the plate in front of him now empty, turning over every one of my humiliations he’s heard. “That’s impressive. Can I ask how you and your husband came to have all of this,” he sweeps his hand out gesturing to the big house.
She smiles wistfully again, her mind back in the past. “My Charles, he was in the military like you, that’s ‘ow we met. ‘e was stationed in England and came to the ‘ospital where I worked. Was in a bit of a scuffle, ‘e was. Och, ‘e was something,” she gets lost in the memories of the past for a moment. She shakes her head to clear away the ghosts of the past. “Anyway, when ‘is time was up, we settled ‘ere, on account of the jobs with the mill…,”
“Your husband worked at the mill?” Bull cuts in.
“Lad, you must be daft. Every old family in this town ‘ad ties with the old place. They did good by their people, they did. Made a right good bit of money in its day, and after it ‘ad gone,” she dips ‘er chin in that way she does to emphasize her point. “My Charles worked ‘is way up and was a foreman at the end. Was one of the last, ‘e was. Was a sad day when it closed.” She stands. “That be enough of the past. Time to get to work,
it is.”
She starts to reach for the plates. “I’ve got it, Nan. You cooked. It was delicious.”
As I clear the table, Bull asks, “It’s a fascinating story. How did it end?”
Nan gets comfortable again. “Which part, the mill, or my Johnny?”
He leans back in his chair, giving her his complete attention. Boy, she’s really got him. “All of it.” The smile he gives her is genuine and warm.
“Let’s see,” she tilts her head sideways. “Best to start at the beginning. It was after the depression and those ‘ard times were still fresh. Some of the pay at the mill was part ownership in the place. Some of the locals grumbled about it, but those ‘ooed ‘ad ‘alf a brain,” she taps the side of her head with a finger, “they knew they’d be getting the big payout in the end.”
He rubs the short beard along his jaw. “Interesting.” He’s thinking, I don’t know about what, but it seems what Nan’s telling him is the most interesting thing he’s ever heard.
“Och, it gets better,” she’s as giddy as a schoolgirl at this point. I have to smile at her. “You see, the owners, they saw when things promised to move overseas. They’d ‘ad their customers sign these papers,” she waves her hands in the air, “don’t rightly know what they were called. But they couldn’t do business with other companies without paying.” She grips Bull’s wrist tightly. She’s excited, I’ve never seen her like this, or heard her talk about what Grandad used to do. All this is new to me. “It wasn’t out of spite, you see, lad. It was for protection. The customers agreed. No one wanted another depression, so they worked together, they did,” she dips her chin again to make her point. “When the day had come they’d be closing, they ‘ad the biggest party this town ‘ad ever saw, they did,” she claps her hands and laughs. “So you see, it was bittersweet, it was, the old mill closing.”
His grin goes from ear to ear.
Watching the two of them together, it melts my heart. I don’t say a word, I don’t want to ruin this moment, Nan reliving the past, and Bull right there in it with her. He doesn’t seem to think it’s weird that I live with my grandmother, he doesn’t act like this is strange, that I’m a freak because my family is important to me. It’s like he belongs here with us. With me. Like he’s always been here, as if we’ve been waiting for him.
Vengeance: The Program Book 4 Page 10
